The Spider
by bookworm231
Summary: What if things had gone differently in the Chamber of Secrets? What if, instead of loosing her innocence, a little girl lost her magic? What does this have to do with the Avengers? Read and find out! Clint/Natasha later on, rating may go up as the story continues.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The marvellous worlds of Harry Potter and the Avengers do not belong to me, I am not making any money off of this. All recognizable text comes from "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Chapter 17-The Heir of Slytherin" **

**Chapter 1: Prologue - An Explanation**

Harry Potter raced into the Chamber of Secrets, looking around frantically. Where was Ginny? Half afraid that a snake would appear around a corner at a moments notice, he kept his eyes narrowed but alert, searching frantically for the eleven-year old. An ancient monkey-like statue dominated the chamber, with its gigantic bearded face towering many meters overhead. There! At the bottom of its feet, Harry spotted flaming red hair that could only belong to a Weasley, and ran towards the small girl lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

"_Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be…_Ginny's body gave a great shudder, but Harry's relief quickly turned to horror as she curled in on herself, her face etched with pain and her body twitching as if held captive against an invisible spell.

"Ginny! Wake up! Please, you have to wake up!"

"_She won't wake," said a soft voice._

_Harry jumped and spun around on his knees._

It was the boy, the one from the Diary. But what was he doing here? Harry set aside that mystery for later, his attention focused on Ginny's shaking form. As he looked back to her, he noticed that her movements had gotten worse, a soft whimper now escaping from her lips as her body convulsed on the floor.

And Tom began to speak, explaining in soft dulcet tones that it had been him, it had always been him. He was the force behind the openings of the Chamber, he was the one behind Hagrid's expulsion, behind Ginny's behavior during the year; he had made her like this. The things he had forced her do to were displayed like medals before Harry, his voice mocking as he recounted her lapses in memory and her attempts to fight off his possession. Harry stood helpless through it all, unable to do anything but listen to the mad man before him. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Ginny's movements had stilled, and any remaining colour she had had was now gone. Harry's eyes flashed back to Riddle, who had a rakish grin on his face; his now solid figures twirling Harry's wand with a careless ease that frightened Harry more than the words he spoke.

"_It's very __**boring**__, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," _Tom whined_. "But I was patient. I wrote back, I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply __**loved**__ me." _And the boy laughed, a high cruel laugh that held the faint wisp of a memory long forgotten; the chilling noise sending shivers down Harry's back and making his hair stand on end. Harry's stomach was growing twisted and heavy, knowing that Ginny didn't have much time left, that she might _die_ the longer Tom kept talking, but he didn't have a plan, he didn't have his wand, and the Basilisk was surely coming any second now, no matter what Riddle said.

"_Ginny poured out her soul to me_, her life, her magic, her very essence. It's all tied to me now. She confided in me, in my diary, all of her secrets, all of her hidden desires; they all helped me grow stronger**, **more attached to her soul."

Then Tom went on to spell out the most devastating thing of all. The words _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT _were burned in Harry's mind long after they dissolved into air. And to Harry it was another blow, another failure, another person he had trusted who had let him down. But he continued, defending his school, his one true home, and the headmaster. And then Fawkes was there to save him, with a frantic song that let him know that Ginny didn't have much time left.

Throughout the encounter with the basilisk, the running, the hat, the sword, the fang; all he could see was Tom's gloating face, standing above the body of a dying little girl, and knowing that he had lost; Ginny would be gone, and the evil wizard who killed his parents would be alive once again. Then Fawkes, that wonderful bird, turned everything back around. He was alive, he was alive, but he had other things to focus on. _Without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the Basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book. _For a moment, it looked as if he had succeeded, Riddle was fading, the basilisk was dead, and Ginny would be all right, of course she would be.

But the she began to scream. A terrifying, piercing scream that never seemed to end as it pressed in from the walls of the chamber; echoing on and on and on; a continuous loop of pain and terror. A sound so haunting, so unforgiving, pounding inside his skull, that it was all Harry could do to drop to his knees and scream along with it. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he could only watch through blurry eyes as Ginny's form writhed and twisted on the floor, and the shade of Tom Riddle slowly, ever so slowly, fading away. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the sound was gone.

The silence was deafening. Harry was slow to uncover his ears. He unfolded himself from his position on the floor, unsure of how he got there, and stood on shaking legs. Ginny was curled up in a ball, whimpering, with tears flowing down her cheeks and eyes clenched shut. Riddle was nowhere to be seen. The Basilisk corpse dominated the Chamber. At his feet was what remained of the Diary, broken in two, with ink splattered across the pages and running on to the ground. He picked it up gingerly and stuffed it in his pocket, not wanting to touch the cursed artifact, but knowing that Dumbledore would need to see it later. As he looked around at the carnage, Fawkes started singing a slow, mournful tune that somehow held everything and nothing at once, and all there was to do was listen.

Harry shook himself lightly, he had lost track of time. Fawkes' haunting melody echoed in his mind long after the bird had stopped singing. He blinked the moisture out of his eyes, and the phoenix was there, in front of him, offering its feathers to carry them to safety. Slowly, moving his arms made of lead, he grabbed on to Fawkes with one hand, and Ginny with the other, and then they were gone.

* * *

They appeared in front of Ron in a flash of fire. The boy only had time to gape at the trio before Fawkes chirped in a tone that sent Ron scurrying to grab hold of Harry, making sure to keep a loose grip on Lockhart. In another burst of flame they were gone.

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Harry woke up in the infirmary, disorientated and confused. Something had happened, something important, something bad, something…And it came to Harry, in a jumbled rush that was too much to sort through as he bolted out of bed his eyes were automatically searching out something, though he didn't quite know what.

"Mr. Potter, get back in that bed this instant!" Screeched Madam Pomfrey, as she came out of her office. Harry looked down, and noticed that indeed, he had taken several steps away from the hospital cot. He ignored her command, and with a slightly glazed mind and blurry eyes, he scanned the infirmary, but for what? No, for who…

"Mr. Potter!" She said again, rounding in front of him. Her hands on his shoulders snapped him out o stupor, and he called out in a panicked voice, mouth tumbling out words without his brain processing.

"Ginny! Where is she! Is she all right? Is Riddle gone? Is she awake? Where's Ron?"

The medi-witch all the while was guiding him back to bed, her lips set in a line so thin that Harry was reminded strongly of McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, if you would lay down and listen" snapped Pomfrey. Harry's mouth clamped shut, and he got back into the bed as ordered.

Pomfrey looked over her ward, and sighed**. **She settled herself down on the end of his bed with a weary expression on her face, as if unsure of what to tell him. Harry forced himself to be patient, pulling the blankets up to his chin; a protective shield against what Madam Pomfrey would say. In this moment, Harry could clearly see the lines etched onto the school nurse's face. Never, in all his time in the Hospital Wing, had he seen her look so old.

"Ms. Weasley," Pomfrey said after a short pause, "is currently in a coma. We do not know when she will wake up, or if she ever will. Her parents are with her now in a private ward and I hope you respect their privacy by not sneaking around and pulling your usual nonsense." She added a stern look that was somewhat betrayed by her trembling lower lip. She heaved in a great, shuddering breath and continued. "You will be pleased to note that the mandrake potion is ready, and has already been administered to those who were Petrified. They should be awake in the next 12 hours or so." While Harry was glad Hermione was all right, he knew Madame Pomfrey was avoiding the topic. Sensing his impatience, she continued."From what Dumbledore gathers, You-Know-Who was enchanting Ms. Weasley with the diary you had in your pocket It would seem that the dark object not only drained her life essence, but her magic as well." Harry nodded slightly at that, remembering what Riddle had said in the chamber, and then flinched away from the memory of the ear-shattering scream.

Madam Pomfrey went on to explain that Ginny's entire magical core had been drained, her body in exhaustion, and the results were uncertain. If she ever woke up, she would still be a witch, at least on a molecular level. She explained to Harry, that Ginny's magical DNA was unaltered, but it seemed as if the magic inside her core was simply gone. What was left of her inherent magic was currently keeping her alive, and they weren't sure how much longer that would last. Although Madame Pomfrey assured Harry that the depletion of ones magical core was not unheard of, it had only ever occurred in adults. The cause, apparently, was from those foolish enough to attempt Apparating across a continent or a large body of water. The result was hospitalization, multitudinous amounts of pepper-up potion, and a month's best rest. After which, most wizards or witches were able to return to their regular activities with little difficulty.

"The problem," she said with a sigh, "was that it should have been impossible for one so young to have emptied her core completely. The magical core is somewhat like a muscle, which grows rapidly during the age of 11 to 17."

"Does ones magical core stop growing once you reach 17?" interrupted Harry, partially eager to find out more about wizards in general, but also mindful that he still did not know quite what had happened to Ginny.

"Not exactly Mr. Potter", Pomfrey replied. "Although the rate of growth depends on the wizard or witch, ones core continues to develop with age, though at a much slower rate. I am sure you have noticed that wizards age slower than muggles after adolescence? This is in part due to ones core size"

Harry nodded, the image of Dumbledore immediately coming to mind.

"But what does this have to do with Ginny?"

"Now this is where the problem starts. Because Ms. Weasley is so young, her core has only begun to grow at an accelerated rate. The shock caused by the complete depletion of her magic very nearly killed her. From my scans, it would seem that her core is still there, but the magic itself is all gone. Think of a bucket that expands itself to accommodate water that continuously flows in it. When you are a teenager, the water is flowing in the bucket at a strong and steady rate, and so the bucket grows accordingly. As you get older, the rate of water flowing in the bucket greatly reduces, but does not stop in entirety. Now in Ms. Weasley's case, the bucket was not only completely drained, but something seems to have dammed the water source, preventing it from filling up again. The only thing that remains is the bucket itself. Does that make sense Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded slightly, still trying to wrap his head around everything he had been told. He understood more with Pomfrey's analogy, but wasn't sure he wanted to.

"But what will happen to Ginny? Will she ever be able to use magic again?"

"Right now, there is no way to see if what is blocking her 'water flow' if you will, will go away. Currently, Ms. Weasley has the magic levels of a squib, and it is highly unlikely that she will ever be able to use magic again. As I said, we simply do not know. There has never been a case like this. Specialists from St Mungo's have been called in to assess the situation, but I highly doubt that they will be able to find a solution when Albus Dumbledore could not."

"Now Mr. Potter, you really do need your rest. I do not want to see you out of this bed until I come with breakfast tomorrow morning. Is that clear?" Her usual stern expression was back in place as she stood up and straightened her robes. Harry nodded in response, and Madame Pomfrey left, but not before patting his leg sympathetically.

Harry shut his eyes, and tried to sleep, but all he could think about was what Madame Pomfrey had said. '_We do not know when she will wake up, or if she will_.' The last thing Harry remembered before falling asleep was the image of Ginny Weasley, lying pale and frozen in a hospital cot, with Mrs. Weasley holding her only daughter's hand with a vice like grip, sobbing into her husband's shoulder.

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**A.N.**

**Hello dear readers, and welcome! As you can see, I have finally decided to delve into the world of real fanfiction writting, (I don't really think RTB counts...) and let me tell you, I am so excited!**

**Fear not, I have this whole story mapped out, each chapter outlined, they just need to be written! Chapter two should be up in about 2 weeks? Don't kill me if its not, I have a couple exams coming up, but I promise that this story will be all done by September!**

**Review and tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

A quick note on the UK's education system: (this is incredibly generalized, and comes from my understanding after searching Wikipedia and talking to family from England). In the UK, there is primary school (years 1-6), secondary school (years 7-11), and then A-levels or Sixth Form (years 12-13), which is like a Cégep for those Québécois, or pre-university type schooling. These last 2 years are not mandatory, but are necessary if one wants to go to University. Just to clarify, year 7 in the UK is sort of similar to grade 8 in a North American high school, though the course difficulty is quite different. So when I refer to Ginny's 10th year, she would be 15 years old, or, in the Harry Potter time stream, it would occur during Half-Blood Prince.

* * *

**Disclaimer: No, sadly, I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers franchise. If I did, trust me, Tom Hiddleston would be mine, and Fred would totally be alive...**

* * *

Ginny woke up. She blinked, her brain processing the stark white of the hospital wing, the anxious faces that were staring down at her, the relief and worry tinted words that were said as they tried to explain, tried to help Ginny remember. There was no need. She was not scared, she was not nervous or frightened, she had not forgotten. Her mother, weeping, holding her only daughter tight in her arms, explaining that she would never be able to use magic again, and all Ginny could think about was that _he_ hadn't come. _He_ hadn't saved her. Tom Riddle had ensured that she was aware of what had happened during the year, of what was happening now as she lay dying on the chamber floor. That while she died, her saviour was chatting away to the monster that was making her remember, the monster that was draining the life, the soul, the heart right out of her.

Tom Riddle had violated her, deeply, intimately, and without regret. Her mind, her body, her magic, it had all been taken by him, tainted by him. Her heart was frozen, her brain detached, her body numb. She felt nothing. Well, that was a lie, but feeling nothing was better than the overwhelming crush of despair she could be feeling otherwise. Feeling nothing was always better. Her naivety, her dreams and hopes in fairytales, that childish outlook on life had been crushed, and not by Tom Riddle. The child Savior himself had accomplished in one day what Tom hadn't been able to do all year. He had flattened her resistance, destroyed her hope, and abolished her will to fight. _He _had made her give up. And that would always be something that she would regret, that a boy had made her cave in, when an evil serial killer who had been possessing her for the better part of a year couldn't. And Tom had known, he had known that Harry would be able to accomplish what he couldn't, that Harry was the only one who could crush her spirit so completely. He kept her aware that as he was slowly, painfully, ripping her magic from her body, her precious Harry was standing there enthralled with Riddle, more anxious about solving the mystery of the diary than of saving the little girl dying at his feet. And now she was awake, and she felt alone with only her in her mind, in her body. _She would never admit that she missed Tom's company, his advice, his companionship. He had always listened to her guided her, made her feel less overwhelmed in a world where she was just the youngest in a family of 8, another Weasley in the crowd. _She listened, as if underwater, as her parents slowly explained to her that her magic was gone. Although Madame Pomfrey couldn't explain it why, Ginny knew. She knew that Tom, in his last desperate attempt to gain control. She would never be able to do magic again. She would be outcast, turned away from the wizarding world, the only world that she knew. Her family, her life, her dreams, her future, it was all gone. And she could never get it back.

Her time in the hospital wing went by like a dream, with images of Dumbledore, of her brothers, her parents, of _him_, weaving in and out of her vision. And she was silent. Then she was home, but it had lost its warmth, its comfort and familiarity. it was as if she was stepping into an unfamiliar world, surrounded by the overwhelming presence of her family, all walking on eggshells around her, conversations tiptoeing around the hippogriff in the room. Her mum, trying to get her daughter to eat, her father, staring at her with sad eyes, at a loss for what to do, and her brothers unable to comprehend how their firecracker of a sister had been transported into the silent, waif of a girl who looked like she could be brought to the ground with a gust of wind. And still, she was silent. Finally, a month into the holidays, her parents brought her to Saint Mungo's, at a loss, and worried why their youngest wasn't talking, and wasn't showing any signs of change.

They were refusing almost all owls now, after someone had managed to take a picture of Ron, Molly, Arthur and Ginny leaving the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Wild rumors were going around, with headlines ranging from _"Prominent light family member now a squib!" _to_ "Eleven year old daughter of Ministry personnel Arthur Weasley worse than dead!" _Some suggested that Ginny had always been devoid of magic and had attempted to sneak into Hogwarts undetected, while other hinted at her being fully responsible for the opening of the chamber of secrets, or that she was secretly a dark lord and Harry Potter had tried to kill her to save them all.

The rest of the summer, and most of the following years were spent visiting healer after healer. Nothing seemed to be making a difference and still Ginny wouldn't speak. Oh, its not as if the healers weren't trying. They had done test after test, and had determined that aside from the block on her magic and a slight case of malnutrition, there was nothing wrong with physically wrong with her. They were patient with her at first, each suggesting different things that should 'cure' her. Some merely believed her to be a silly, stubborn child wanting attention, others wanted to make a case of a lifetime and gain recognition by healing the silent squib child. Some tried to care, but couldn't stand looking into the mute child's eyes for too long, the eyes that looked straight into their soul, eyes that looked centuries too old for a child's face. Everything from magical shock therapy to learning sign language was suggested and tested. Meanwhile, Ginny was enrolled in Muggle secondary school by one of the more proactive mind healers, who believed that moving forwards was the best course of action. Molly and Arthur agreed, knowing that something had to be done. They could not merely sit around and hope that their daughter would be 'fixed'; she was still young and had a whole life ahead of her, even if it wasn't a magical one.

They jumped on the idea of enrolling Ginny in Muggle school, and signed her up for various activities to keep her day busy. She needs a creative outlet, the Mind Healer had said, now that she can no longer do magic. Most children who've been through something traumatic find healing in something artistic. It doesn't have to be drawing, it can be playing an instrument, dancing, cooking even. Finding a hobby to enjoy, to gain skills in, something that will pass the time, was the goal. And so Ginny was put in dance classes, art classes, football clubs, martial arts studios, and a myriad of other things. Most were abandoned within a month, as Ginny simply refused to attend the sculpting class and sewing classes, but others, such as ballet, fencing and Jujutsu, which used the opponents strength and momentum against them, and which Ginny seemed to enjoy with a growing ferocity, were attended with regularity. Although her parents had some reservation in seeing their daughter learn barbaric muggle fighting, they could see that she gained confidence as she learned how to defend herself using her size and gender as an asset, not a weakness. At least she was no longer stuck silent at home, hiding away in her room. She still wasn't speaking, but she wasn't as hunched over. She had lost the sparkle in her features, that childish gleam of delight in the world, and her eyes, they were not full happiness, only sorrow, and pain. Even during martial arts practice, the haunted look was merely replaced by one of steely determination.

Molly tried to hide the fact that she was upset, and had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her little girl was becoming more distant, and alien towards her. She had had grand ideas of her daughter being home instead of going off to Scotland. She had always wanted to homeschool Ginny, but knowing how much her daughter had wanted to go to Hogwarts, had never truly entertained the possibility. Now her little girl would be here with her to stay, and they could do things together. They could still, sow, shop, and bond together. She thought that having her daughter home would be a blessing, they could grow closer without outside interference, but if anything, they grew further apart.

Muggle School was going well, if one could call it that. Ginny was neither excelling, nor failing, but for one who had never had a non-magical education, that was expected. Still, they were concerned. The fact that their vibrant, vivacious little girl didn't have any friends and still wasn't talking was worrying, and they didn't know what to do. But then there were other things to worry about. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and he was targeting Hogwarts, where her Ron, the twins and Percy were still enrolled. Ginny, who was rarely home now a days, was slowly slipping through the cracks.

Ginny, though mute, was not blind. She knew that her parent's focus was slowly sliding back from her to the trials and turmoil's of the wizarding world. She knew that she would soon be all but ignored as her mother and father become more distant, unable to connect with their silent squib daughter who lived in the muggle world. She observed the politics of her secondary school; who was popular, who wanted to be, who was rich, and who pretended to be, who was lusting after who, lying to who, and cheating on who. She knew which teachers were messing around in the break-room, and which ones were cheating on A-levels for students. She was silent, she observed, and she calculated. Her heart hadn't felt the same since Tom had left. She was colder, harder, with something vital missing though she didn't care to find what. Her magic was gone, but that didn't mean she was hopeless. She would never be hopeless again, with only the wish that a childhood hero would be the one to save her. No, she would protect herself from everyone, she would be strong, but keep it silent. She would look the easy target, manipulate the views of people around her, and make them realize too late that the mute girl in the corner could incapacitate them with a twist of an arm before they even knew what had happened. She started with the basics, what every little girl with a family of brothers would know to survive. A pretend cry over something one of them had done would get her out of doing chores, a brother in trouble with dad, and maybe a biscuit and some tea from mum if she were lucky. Now she was just pushing it further. A teary eye here, a sad look there, a tilt of the shoulders, and she could get away with not doing homework from one teacher, or getting out of a project from another. She listened on what to say to whom, and how to say it just right.

Another year went by, and as Ginny was getting ready for her 8th year, the wizarding world was prepping for the tournament at Hogwarts, not that she knew anything about that. It had been nice to see Bill and Charlie during summer break, but their focus on her had been tad disconcerting. She had since gotten used to her parents un-subtle avoidance. They wanted to know everything, how she was doing in school, what she could do in martial arts, how she could live in the world without magic, trying to get her to slip up, to speak to them. In return for every piece of information they got from her, she would get something about the infamous tri-wizard tournament that all the adults were not so subtly hiding. She put on an eager look, a faint hint of a smile, an encouraging tilt of the head, and her brothers would tell her more of the comings and goings of the wizarding world. They would tell her about all the exciting things had happened at Hogwarts, believing that she would want to know. By the end of it, she was glad for the Death Eater attack. Putting up an act all summer for her brothers had been exhausting, and now they could all focus on the trouble a deadly tournament at Hogwarts rather than her.

She started speaking again in her 9th year. Not because she was 'cured' of the damage that had occurred at Hogwarts, but because it was convenient. Because after over two years of observing, she felt that she knew enough to try manipulation through speech instead of just body language. She began to gain the reputation at school as someone dangerous to cross, the name Fire was whispered behind backs, a taunting, tantalizing flame that was mesmerizing to look at, but deadly if one approached. All the while, a cold fire was burning fierce and frightening inside of her as her brother came back from school more scarred then ever. Couldn't they see? Why didn't they observe? Those who stayed with Harry Potter always ended up getting hurt or killed. Or had they already forgotten what had happened to her? Harry's parents, herself, Cedric, even Sirius Black, who went to Azkaban for him, and would wind up dead because of him. Why couldn't they see that those who stayed with Harry would attract Voldemort, that there were consequences? She scoffed at their ignorance, their blind admiration of their precious Boy Who Lived. It had blinded her, and she had been broken because of it.

By her 10th year, she began to be known around school as the girl who could do anything, for a price. She had all the teachers wrapped around her fingers, and could get a kid suspended with a tilt of a head, or so the rumor went. Want the answer key for the final exam? Done, so long as you remember who it came from, and were willing to provide a return later on. The price would range from a certificate to Harrods, drugs from a certain supplier, or even a place to stay for a week to get away from her parents at the Burrow. Her connections grew, and her manipulations reached such an extent that by her 11th year, she brought up the subject of going abroad for schooling in such as a way that her parents thought that it was their idea all along. After all, the world was getting dangerous, and they had just found out that their youngest son wasn't planning on attending Hogwarts in his final year. Dumbledore was dead, Voldemort was on the rise, yes, it was an excellent idea for their daughter to go on an exchange program in Europe to complete her final year and hopefully go on and take her A-levels.

The day the Ministry fell was the day Ginny Weasley fled from Devon, and took her place in an all-paid for exchange program in place of a girl who owed her a favor. Getting top scores in her A-levels was easy, as was the getting secretarial job for the European Union. She loved it, working with many different governments, and gathering intel on each. It wasn't long before the sassy redhead who knew more than she should, began getting attention from the underworld as she worked her way up with her knowledge of things that really should have been secret. While on a business trip in the Balkans, where she had heard intell that the king of Sweden was currently having an affair with a young painter, she attracted the attention of an organization that controlled underworld, and gained an offer that she literally couldn't refuse. And so the Black Widow was born.

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A.N

I am terribly sorry for taking so long, but there has been major flooding very close to where I live, and that took precedent. Fortunately, it didn't cause any damage in our area, but it was still very scary. As I said before, I do have this story mapped out, all that needs to be done is the writing. I do want to complete this before September, so I will try and update as soon as each chapter is done, but again, that depends on whether or not our internet stays online.

Oh, and thank everyone of you for the reviews, follows and favs.! They really do motivate the writing ;D


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